


I said I wouldn't call

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Rumor Has It (We're all selfish morons) [15]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Epistolary, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But I'm suffering alone and I need you now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I said I wouldn't call

**May 5, 2014**

****  
_To Mr. Loki Laufeyson, since I hear this is how you have people call you now._   
  
_I imagine you will be surprised, at best, to get a letter from me. I also don’t suppose you will be very enclined to read this and, while I could not care less whether you actually open this letter or not, I trust the enclosed pictures will make you curious enough that you will, in fact, read these lines._   
  
_You hate me, I know, with good reasons._   
_Should I even want your forgiveness, there would be no use denying this, not when I have just as little love for myself as you do._   
_I have lived the past twenty-three years with the knowledge that the only woman I ever loved died by my hand, and nothing, no one can erase that fact._   
  
_Why then, do I write to you, when I know nothing will change? I do not know._   
_I killed Laufey during a moment of folly, and neither your prayers nor any other’s can bring her back -and yet there hasn’t been a single minute since that day when I didn’t wish I could undo that particular moment of my life._   
  
_I think the true reason of this letter is that, while you are the only one of Laufey’s child I did not sire, you are the one she loved best, and the one who is most like me. I am assuming you will not like reading this -rest assured the thought has been nothing short of hateful for me, too._   
  
_As I said, I am not looking for forgiveness or understanding here, but these pictures were Laufey’s favorite, and I thought it right that my last action went to honor her memory._

_I will be dead by the time you read this letter._

  
_Farewell, or don’t. I care not._  
  
 _Thrÿm._  
  
  
In a house in Malibu, a phone rings.  
  
The house is dark and empty, save for the garage where Iron Man is blaring, covering even the sound of a hammer against metal.  
A man in a dirty wifebeater is trying to complete his latest project -the frame is simple, a long black arm on wheels, pincers waiting on the bench by the man’s side. He stops for a drink and looks at his glass in surprise, not yet used to finding orange juice instead of his former whisky.  
  
In the house in Malibu, the phone rings, and it sounds shrill against the living room walls, baren and cold.  
  
There is a picture on the wall of the garage, where the man in a wifebeater is younger, sicker.  
His eyes are sunken and his face colored by too much alcohol, but there is a smile on his lips that doesn’t exist anymore as he looks at the camera, arm slung over another boy’s shoulders.  
  
In the house in Malibu, the phone rings, and the echo is lost in the loneliness of a room that has nearly never seen its owner.  
  
The boy in the photograph is a man as well now, and he sits in the darkness of his New York kitchen, pleading for someone to pick up. There are tears on his cheeks and his hands are shivering, ghost of a past he would rather forget.  
  
In the house in Malibu, the phone stops ringing, and the man in the wifebeater doesn’t notice.


End file.
